


278 - To Celebrate Fluctuate

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Mini Fic, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 09:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: A mini fic about: Catfish’s return to the stage.





	278 - To Celebrate Fluctuate

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever fic published in the present tense. Weird. Also, SURPRISE! Bonus fic this week. Just got a little inspired by the new videos, photos, etc. Hope ya dig it.

“What’s this… this… all about then?” you ask, motioning to Van’s body but meaning specficically his mood. 

He sighs then goes to speak but closes his mouth again. It’s chaotic backstage. That’s what happens when you put four bands together for one night of mayhem. Bondy, Benji, and Bob are all somewhere outside. Bondy was gifted a bottle of vodka and last you checked he was taking photos with it. He’s been better though, healthier. He looks younger. You know he won’t smash the bottle alone.

Larry walks by, nodding to Van. He’s off to set up. It’s almost time for Catfish’s long-awaited return to the touring scene. It’s also the night they premiere the new track. You’d say Van is nervous, but you know what nervous looks like on him and this isn’t it.

Van had lifted you onto a table so that you were just above his eye line. Among his many other rituals, he liked to spend a couple of minutes with you. Sometimes you talked. Sometimes you made out. Sometimes you just quietly sat together, anchors in a raging sea.

Now, Van stands between your legs, pressed close to you. Your arms are slung casually over his shoulders and his are wrapped around your waist. He gently presses the palms of his hands on your back and slides them up under your t-shirt. The skin on skin contact makes you shiver, but you’re not so easily distracted.

“Van?”

“I… I don't…” He can’t finish, shrugging instead and smiling a weak version of his usual grin.

“You know they’ll love it, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I mean, it’s different, but it’s still us. I think people will like it. It’s good live,” Van replies, sounding like he’s in an interview rather than talking to his girlfriend of many years.

Chewing your lip, you watch him carefully. “Are you just pissed that you have to work harder in that song? Have to sing all the words instead of getting the crowd to do ya job for you?”

Van laughs. “Babe! What was that for?!”

You push him gently then pull him back close. He watches you watch him. Combing your fingers through his hair, you smile. It’s getting long, but you like it like that. It gets a little bit curly and it flicks up at the part like a cowlick. Van looks soft. He looks like himself, all in black but not at all cool. God, you love him.

“You’re okay, yeah?” you ask seriously.

Van can sense the tone of your voice. He nods. “Promise. Just… like, I’m dead excited, but… it’s like I’m a cup and I’ve overflown from excitement and so there ain’t no room to move, you know what I mean? I’ll be right as soon as the lads are here and we get out there. I just miss it,”

“Like you’re at the airport waiting for an old friend to arrive? Haven’t seen them in ages,”

“Yes! Yeah. See? You get me. I’m alright, babe. Don’t put that worried look on ya face,” he says, then reaches out to rub his thumb along your bottom lip. You let him, then pull him by the collar close so you can kiss him.

Minutes tick by and the guys arrive. You watch them stand side of stage, jumping and joking with each other. They’ve not done it in so long but they fall back into place so easily. Van looks happy. Settled. He’s always needed you for that.

The lights start to strobe and Catfish walk on stage, Van leading his band of misfits. You track his movements as he walks to the front. Dead centre, he opens his arms out wide, like he’s trying to hug the entire crowd at once. He would if he could. He’s grinning and it’s so genuine that anyone watching has to grin back. You watch as he does strange little arm movements that are adorably uncool. He smiles at his band, who are all equally as pumped. Even Bondy does a little cheer-wave.

With his black guitar slung over his body and Bob’s drumming behind him, Van walks to the microphone and starts with Homesick. Nobody knows how many records Catfish will put out or how long they’ll be doing this, but you hope for as long as they do, they always open with Homesick. 

The set is long, arguably the longest they’ve done. It’s a thank you to all the fans that have waited so patiently for them to return. From Homesick they jump straight into Kathleen, like God intended. Soundcheck. Pacifier. Sidewinder. You can see the shock and happiness on the faces of the front row when they recognise that; it’s hardly played live anymore. Fallout. Anything. Business, one of Van’s favourite to sing. Rango. Again, people count their blessings. Heathrow. Postpone. Twice. Outside. Hourglass. Two stripped back songs in one set is new for Catfish. Hearts are exploding across the crowd.

It’s time for the new track, Fluctuate. Sticking to their one-word title formula, the song is definitely on brand. The sound though, is bigger. It’s Oasis, but not at all. It’s stadium guitar rock bands, but it’s still baby Van dreaming of any crowd at all. “I pushed back all my plans, ‘cause you waited up. Christ, I love you,” Van sings. It doesn’t matter that nobody knows the words. The fans move like the song has been encoded in their DNA all along. “Here’s to the nights we’d come in!” His voice is louder, raw, and has a sense of anger and urgency that isn’t usual for him. You’re in love with it. It makes you want to move your body in every way a body can be moved.

Van’s lyrics come out distorted ever-so-slightly as they work their way around his beautiful smile. As soon as he sees people’s response to the song, he’s gone. He’s putting on a full performance of the song. He’s acting it out with his hands. His face jumps from expression to expression, telling the story. You’re so, so fucking happy for him.

After Fluctuate, 7, Cocoon and Tyrants play out perfectly. Like opener Homesick, Tyrants needs to end all shows. It’s better than any encore. It’s honest and it’s a reminder of both how far they have come and the pure talent of their enigmatic frontman.

The guitars are dropped and the drumsticks are thrown. There’s only a whisper of “Encore!” from the crowd and they’re hushed quickly by anyone that knows Catfish don’t do them. Van is last to leave the stage. He waves and waves and waves. From there, he walks directly to you. He crashes into you, sticky and sweaty and happy.

“Babe,” he says breathlessly. “It works!”

“I know! It sounded amazing!” you confirm.

Van looks to the guys, who are all buzzing. He lets you go to pull them into a hug. Maybe the others are better in control of their emotions or maybe they don’t feel as big as Van does, but he’s the only one who is physically shaking. His fingers look like they’re vibrating; someone makes a dirty joke and you just shake your head. Van hasn’t noticed. He’s gone. He’s not on Planet Earth anymore. It’s going to take hours to bring him home.


End file.
